


Turn

by bumblegwen



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: A Sort of Fix-It, Alfred Nugent (briefly), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Conflict, Feels, Fix-It, Friendship, M/M, The Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblegwen/pseuds/bumblegwen
Summary: Thomas has had enough of unhappiness, so in the middle of the night, he decides to tell Jimmy a story.Downton Season 3, Episode 7 fix-it of sorts.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow & Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Turn

**Author's Note:**

> TW for homophobia, homophobic language, very, very mild violence and some swearing. I don't hold any of the views that a certain character in this fic has.
> 
> This is an alternative version of The Incident in S3E7. Very self-indulgent and completely unlikely. I'm weak. okay!

Thomas threw his shirt in a crumbled ball. The shirt landed on his bed and slipped off the other side. Breaths heaved in and out of his lungs, his chest too tight to contain them, his pulse beating through his body like hammer. His stare bore into the yellowing wall. He sucked in his cheeks, clamping down the fleshy insides until it stung.

He finished changing and charged out of his bedroom. No more thinking.

Bleak light lay across Jimmy’s bedroom door like a hospital sheet. Thomas wrapped his hand around the doorknob and turned it. No more thinking.

He stopped himself and let go. His eyebrows drew together, and he stumbled back a step. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding in a breath until it flowed out of him like water from a dam. The door suddenly seemed less like an invitation and more like the door to a holy space. Lips parted, Thomas pressed the heel of his palms into his closed eyes and tried to slow his breathing. Fireworks swirled behind his eyelids.

Lowering his hands, blinking as the corridor reformed around him, Thomas waited another moment, glancing up and down. Nobody came. He could feel his nerve begin to slither away from him. He had to do it.

Four knocks on the door. Four seemed like a sensible, not-millimetres-from-hyperventilating, number. From the other side, he heard shuffling and two muted creaks. Thomas flexed his fingers and momentarily wondered whether he should have taken his glove off, but before he could do anything else, the door opened.

Every sighting of Jimmy, whether fleeting or as he was now, ruffled, curled hair taking the unfriendly lamplight and turning it into spun gold, his face softened with tiredness and his eyes squinting, was breath-taking. Air caught in Thomas’ throat and for far too long, he couldn’t find the words he needed. There were no words, really, for seeing Jimmy like this, this perfect picture of everything he’d ever wanted, his fairy tale. Thomas dug his fingers into his palms to alert himself to the fact that Jimmy was still waiting for him to speak.

‘I-I need to talk to you. Can I come in?’

Jimmy hummed and stepped aside, itching his jaw and blinking himself awake. As Jimmy meandered back to the bed, Thomas closed the door behind him with a soft clunk. He looked over his shoulder. Jimmy was pawing at the blanket on his bed, gathering handfuls of material and dragging it over his shoulders. Thomas let himself smile.

Thomas grabbed the wooden chair from by the door and sat down, trying not to rinse his hands or get and up leave all together. His gaze flitted from the floor to his glove, to the door, to Jimmy. He stopped himself there. The young man had wrapped himself up in the woollen blanket and had turned on the lamp by his bed. Amber light shifted on his cheeks as he settled, choosing to sit cross-legged with his chin rested on his fist.

‘What’s this ‘bout, Mr Barrow?’ Jimmy asked hoarsely.

In Thomas’ short planning, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had never even anticipated stepping over the threshold of Jimmy’s bedroom let alone getting to talk to him about what was burning in his chest. Thomas’ pyjamas had pockets and in one of these were a couple of cigarettes and his lighter. He reached for these.

‘D’you mind if I smoke?’

‘No.’

‘D’you want one?’

‘No. You’re makin’ me nervous.’

Thomas let out a shaky laugh, ‘If it helps, that’s ‘cause I am too.’

Jimmy snorted sleepily, ‘You? Nervous?’

‘Trust me, if you knew…’

Thomas sighed and stared at his lit cigarette. The orange tip glowed like an all-seeing eye. Smoke ribbons spiralled upwards between his fingers.

‘Jimmy, I have to tell you somethin’.’

‘Sounds bad.’

‘It very well could be, but I have to. I don’t think I have a choice anymore.’

Admitting it out loud was something else. The words hung stark and unflinching between them as Thomas waited for a reaction. Jimmy pouted as he frowned.

‘But,’ Thomas continued softly, ‘it could be very good. It could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

‘So, what is it?’

Thomas watched as Jimmy inched forwards. Blue eyes met grey ones. Thomas decided what he needed to do. It was the only way.

‘I think I need to tell you a story.’

Jimmy smirked, ‘What, you wanna tell me a bedtime story? I know you’re old an’ I’m the pinnacle of youth, but Jesus.’

Thomas laughed and shook his head. He took a drag of his cigarette before setting his hand on his knee.

‘No. Not a happy story, I’m afraid.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Me.’

The curls over Jimmy’s forehead bounced as he tilted his head to one side like an inquisitive cat. Thomas squeezed his free hand shut.

‘Why’re you doin’ this, Mr Barrow? Why in the middle of the night?’

Good question. Thomas shrugged, ‘I’ll never tell you otherwise. It’s important.’

Jimmy leaned back against the wall next to his bed, chin raised, eyes staring Thomas down.

‘Get on with it, then.’

Thomas rolled his shoulders. It was indeed time to get one with it. Releasing a long, deep breath, he thought back to earlier that day.

‘You said you were alone now, after you parents died.’

Jimmy nodded in reply, ‘Yeah, an’ you said the same.’

‘Sort of. Mine are still alive.’

Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Oh.’

‘Except,’ Thomas took another deep breath, ‘I left home when I was fourteen. They kicked me out.’

As someone who normally had an answer for everything, Thomas was surprised Jimmy didn’t comment. Realising he’d been progressively lowering his gaze to the floor, Thomas looked up and found Jimmy’s mouth parted a fraction. Thomas was about to ask what was wrong, but then he remembered. He was so used to his own story, so used to never revealing anything, that the idea that anyone would be shocked had escaped him. Casting his gaze down again, Thomas rubbed his thumb up and down the material of his glove.

‘My father sent a letter ahead of me here. Should be grateful, really, he got me my first job.’

‘Why would they do that to you?’

Jimmy sounded almost horrified. Thomas forced himself to meet his gaze with a nervous smile.

‘I’ll get there. Give me time.’

‘But that’s so young.’

‘Well, to them they had good reason. Dad’s a piece of work, me mum’s ‘bout as carin’ as a brick wall.’ Thomas’ smile turned bitter, ‘Explains me a bit, don’t it?’

‘I don’t think so. You’re alright, Mr Barrow.’

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment. If Jimmy had any idea how much that meant to him, he’d run a mile and then some. People with faces like Jimmy’s and a simple sense of kindness, of course, only when it suited him or when the two of them were alone, shouldn’t be allowed near people like himself, he thought. It was just too dangerous a way to be next to someone who fell so easily.

‘Thank you. Only to you, mind.’ he replied cheekily, ‘I’ve got a reputation to keep.’

Jimmy chuckled, ‘’Course.’

‘You know I was in the war, don’t you?’

‘That’s how you got that, innit?’ Jimmy asked, gesturing to Thomas’ hand.

‘Yes, it is. When I came back, I worked on the medical side of things, helpin’ Mrs Crawley and the Lady Sybil run the house, poor girl.’

‘She’s the one that… that…’

‘Died. That was her.’

‘I’m still sorry about that, Mr Barrow, I remember how upset you were.’

Despite the aching sadness, Thomas smiled at the memory of holding Jimmy’s hand and how neither of them let go. He remembered Jimmy offering him small, worried glances. The only person who’d ever worried about him was Lady Sybil and the parallels had nearly pushed him to tears. Even now, his throat tightened at the thought of her young life with all its wasted potential. Clearing his throat, Thomas shifted in his chair and forced himself on.

‘You alright, Mr Barrow?’

‘I’m fine. When I was doin’ that job I met a young lieutenant named Edward Courtenay who’d been blinded by gas. We talked a lot, mostly about his family an’ how they weren’t good to him. I thought I understood him, I wanted to help. Lady Sybil an’ I almost had him walkin’ on his own. He should’ve been doin’ well.’

Thomas heard a shuddering sigh and glanced at Jimmy. His nails dug into the blanket, pulling it firmly around his shoulders. His eyes stared elsewhere. Thomas had a reasonable idea of where that might be. Bodies in the mud didn’t fade as much as hide in your mind and wait to haunt you.

‘I’ll stop talkin’ about it, if you want me to.’ Thomas murmured.

‘No… maybe.’ Jimmy looked at him and looked away again, eyes glazed, ‘I don’t know.’

‘There’s only one more thing you need to know about him.’

‘Alright.’

‘He passed away. He… did it to himself.’

As soon as the words left Thomas’ mouth, Jimmy’s head lifted, his eyes wide and bluer than cornflowers. His brow furrowed and he sat up.

‘Crikey, I’m sorry, that’s awful. Were you close?’

Tears threatened to fall, but he refused to break down. Instead, Thomas sniffed, straightened himself and inhaled more smoke. Pooling and warm, the smoke swam through his lungs, soothing him until he breathed out. Distantly, he noticed the cigarette was nearing its end. His gaze drifted to the fading orange glow.

‘Jimmy, I’m tellin’ you all this because you’re my best friend and I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone me whole life. You have to know that. I trust you.’

‘I don’t understand, what’s this got to do with me?’

‘Right. Alright.’

Thomas made sure he was brave. He had to be, he owed it to them both. Thomas put out his cigarette. Though he wanted to walk away or at least continue staring holes into the floor, he lifted his gaze to meet Jimmy’s. Jimmy, who looked more confused by the second, had inched closer and closer to the edge of the bed, his feet now touch the floor. His hands gripped the mattress and his eyes held his with unfaltering innocence. Thomas willed himself to always remember this face, this version of Jimmy in this very second. He was about to change everything.

‘I cared about Edward because I wanted to fall in love with him.’

As he spoke, Jimmy’s eyes widened, and his usually full mouth became a thin line. Thomas’ heart thudded painfully.

‘And I’m tellin’ you because… I…’ Thomas stammered and clenched his fists, ‘I love you.’

His hands trembled, gripping each other as though in prayer. Glowing in lamplight, Jimmy’s face hardened, eyes glaring into the distance. The blanket had slipped from his shoulders, which were now hunched and rigid. His jaw set. Yet even like this, frenetic energy simmering under his skin, he was perfect. Thomas felt it in his chest, in his throat, in his hands, the magnetic pull towards Jimmy.

‘I love you, Jimmy.’ Thomas whispered.

Without looking at him, Jimmy asked in a low voice, ‘Is that why you left home?’

‘It is.’

A pause. Thomas gulped and watched Jimmy’s face alter minutely. His eyebrows drew together slowly, shadows hiding his eyes. Curls tumbled down his forehead, further covering the blue, leaving Thomas guessing as to what he might do.

‘Get out.’

Thomas’ body went cold. His features fell.

‘Jimmy, no, please – ‘

Jimmy jumped to his feet, head bowed like a bull. His fingers curled into fists.

‘I said, get out!’

Jimmy lurched forward, shoving Thomas in the chest. Stumbling, Thomas could only stare as red-hot rage engulfed the room, spilling from Jimmy like smoke. Thomas’ mouth hung open uselessly.

‘But- but what about all there is between us?’ he begged, his voice fracturing.

‘There’s nothin’ between us except my fists if you don’t get out!’

He pushed again, and again, and again, pummelling Thomas back until he slammed against the door. Thomas fumbled for the doorknob, never letting his gaze drop from Jimmy’s. His lungs and throat burned as he hyperventilated. Just as Jimmy raised his hands again, Thomas twisted the handle and pulled the door open. Jimmy backed off. Thomas raised his palms in front of him.

‘I’m goin’, alright?’

Jimmy did not respond with words but glared through the dark room as Thomas slowly shut the door.

Staring at the door, Thomas could form no thoughts, no reaction, no reason. The lines of wood seemed to thicken before his eyes like prison bars.

‘What’ve I done?’ he whispered to no one.

‘Wha’s tha’?’

Thomas whipped around. Alfred, swaying on the spot, stood halfway down the corridor with unfocused eyes. Thomas grimaced.

‘Go to bed.’ he snapped, and Alfred, the pillock, grunted and meandered into his room.

It was until Thomas was lying in bed that the numbness lifted its grip on his heart. Short of screaming, he sobbed himself to sleep.

****

The mirror showed blotchy skin and eyelashes stuck together with dried tears. It showed a crisp shirt, and stark black tie and broad shoulders struggling with an invisible weight.

Thomas’ eyes bore into the glass without movement.

At some point, he would have to leave the room and face it. For all he knew, Jimmy had gone to Alfred and whispered his secrets like they were lurid penny-dreadfuls. The information might have even travelled to O’Brien overnight, Thomas mused, and would therefore leak into Mr Carson’s ears. Thomas raised his hands and straightened his tie again. He glanced up and down his reflection. Everything was perfect until you paused on the eyes.

Four knocks.

He couldn’t bring himself to sigh at the wake-up call. He’d already been up for an hour, blinking into existence as the sun had. Pursing his lips, Thomas pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin a fraction.

Four more knocks sounded, causing him to narrow his eyes as though he were already scowling at the little shit who was in for a rollicking if he didn’t bugger off. He had no time for hall-boys.

The door crept open.

Thomas turned to face it, but his insults disappeared. The sounds of the house fell away. Jimmy hesitated before fully stepping in, at which point Thomas immediately took several steps back as if pushed. Jimmy shut the door.

‘What are you doing here?’ Thomas croaked.

He swore internally as the pain returned in his throat. Now Jimmy would think he was wilting. He clenched his fists and remained still, waiting for Jimmy to erupt.

‘You stay over there, alright?’

Thomas was surprised to hear Jimmy’s voice as shaking and broken as his own. In fact, Jimmy was barely looking at him, his downturned mouth mostly hidden. Nodding, Thomas took another step away from him and the back of his knee hit the bed. His stomach turned and his gaze drifted to the mirror. Pressed against the bed, heart beating in his ears, he felt like a criminal. Thomas gulped and looked back at Jimmy, who had finally raised his eyes.

‘Ji- James… I’m sorry.’

Jimmy frowned and spat, ‘What?’

‘That was a… a stupid, stupid thing to do,’ he rambled, ‘I can’t expect you to be fine with what I am and I’ll stay away.’

‘What if Alfred had walked in and seen,’ Jimmy wrinkled his nose, ‘somethin’?’

Thomas lowered his gaze.

‘I know. I’m so sorry. Truly.’ he said quietly.

‘But I don’t understand, Thomas,’ Jimmy said, stepping towards him, ‘why’re you sorry when you wanted somethin’ from me? Why when you’re tryn’a… I don’t know what you people do, get one over?’

For the first time since Jimmy had entered the room, Thomas met his gaze. What he found there was confusion, furrowed brow, and all, but not disgust. Thomas knew he should be grateful that Jimmy wasn’t calling the police already.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas worded his answer carefully, ‘I had hope, that’s all. You did nothin’ wrong.’

Jimmy seemed to freeze in time before his eyes widened and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

‘No, I did.’ he grimaced.

‘Of course, you didn’t, you really-‘

‘O’Brien, Thomas.’

Now it was Thomas’ turn to realise. He glanced at the door behind Jimmy.

‘That… bitch.’ he breathed.

‘Every time you were, uh, touchin’ me or bein’ nice, she said it was because you were gonna help me move up the ranks.’ Jimmy said, ‘I told her it was makin’ me nervous, that you were too hands-y and she told me not to say anythin’.’

Thomas dropped to the bed upon hearing those words. He sat and stared into space as his world crumbled around him. His vision blurred around the edges.

‘It was all a lie, then.’ he said, his voice cracking, ‘Nothin’ I saw was real.’

‘I don’t know what to say to that.’

He wanted Jimmy to leave. He wanted the entire fucking Abbey to burn down with O’Brien in it. He wanted to lock the door and punch a hole in the mirror. Thomas swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath.

He looked up. Jimmy stood shifted from foot to foot, eyeing him as if he weren’t sure if he were about to set on fire. Thomas almost laughed.

‘I don’t understand any of… of the thing- the what you are.’ Jimmy said, looking down at his feet.

Thomas sighed, ‘It’s not a dirty word, you can say it.’

Jimmy shook his head.

‘I’m a homosexual, James. It’s just a word. I haven’t changed since yesterday.’ Thomas said slowly.

‘Right.’ Jimmy replied gruffly.

Thomas sighed again and stood up. Surprisingly, Jimmy did not flinch or jump away, or shout at him again. Instead, by some miracle, Jimmy looked him squarely in the face. Thomas smiled gently.

‘I’d like it if we could be friends.’

Jimmy lifted his head and appeared to sink into deep thought. His mouth pouted and his hands slipped into his trouser pockets. A lump formed in Thomas’ throat as he waited. He daren’t try anything else or he knew with Jimmy’s impulsiveness that he would run or kick off again.

‘I think,’ Jimmy said firmly, ‘I can manage that.’

They smiled sheepishly, Thomas in disbelief and Jimmy halfway to laughing. Catching each other’s eye, they snorted, wrestling childish grins. Tentatively, Thomas stepped towards Jimmy, who did not move away. Jimmy fidgeted and cleared his throat.

‘So, what do we do about O’Brien?’ Jimmy asked.

Thomas scowled as the name ruined the very air it entered into.

‘How well does she know you?’ Jimmy persisted.

‘Very well.’ Thomas replied grimly, ‘She’ll know I’ve done somethin’ stupid. We go down there an’ pretend everythin’s hunky-dory, I reckon.’

Jimmy smirked, ‘She’ll lose her marbles.’

‘She’s played her best card, James, and I know her secrets. I know you don’t, uh, agree with the way I am, but at least she might back off you.’

Jimmy nodded and Thomas went to the bedroom door, reaching out to grab the doorknob, but something stopped him. He looked at Jimmy in shock. Jimmy had wrapped his hand around Thomas’ forearm. His blue eyes bored into Thomas’ with determination.

‘I’m sorry too, Thomas. Maybe I overreacted last night.’

‘Oh,’ Thomas exclaimed, ‘no, it’s-‘

Without a word, Jimmy removed his hand and looped his arms under Thomas’, crushing him in an embrace. Thomas froze.

‘I’m sorry.’ Jimmy mumbled, muffled by the material of Thomas’ waistcoat.

Thomas raised his arms hesitantly. When Jimmy didn’t move, he wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders and back. He closed his eyes and let the pain in his chest swell. This hurt. Heaven and hell in one hug and Jimmy had no clue how deeply it ran, but it was worth it.

Just as quickly as he had done it, Jimmy untangled himself and was soon straightening his uniform. Thomas could have looked elsewhere, but his gaze followed Jimmy like the younger man was sunlight.

‘Thank you, James.’ Thomas responded finally, ‘I needed that, I think.’

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

‘Call me James again an’ I’ll thump you.’

‘You couldn’t bruise me if you tried, imp.’

Jimmy snickered as they left the room and parroted loudly about how he was going to nick brownies from the kitchen, glancing back at Thomas as if to make sure he was laughing along with him. Through the scurrying hall-boys and Mr Carson grumbling a good-morning, down the stairs and through the inevitable chaos that began the day, all Thomas could see was Jimmy. His sunbeam blazing through the storm.

Thomas swallowed thickly as they sat down for breakfast. This would have to be enough for him.


End file.
